


Printed Words and Notebook Scrawl

by sadyshea



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Football | Soccer, M/M, Multi, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:06:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadyshea/pseuds/sadyshea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is the determined editor, president and main journalist for his high school’s newspaper. He’s passionate about what he does and works long and dedicated hours to get every week’s issue out.</p>
<p>The problem? No one cares.</p>
<p>But Harry is surrounded by ignorant peers like his musician and his best friend, Niall who’s in a band with ‘Zayn’ (who Harry really isn’t sure exists because he’s never actually seen him before), Louis Tomlinson, the prick of a captain of the football team and his right hand man, Liam, and a mysterious new guy in school, Jamieson Noble.</p>
<p>Mediocrity is the name and high school’s the game. Until an poem by an anonymous writer shows up in the newspaper submission box and Harry’s world (literary and real) is never the same again…</p>
<p>Note: This is experimental. I don’t know the ships yet but I know there will more than one. Bare with me, there will also be some OC action. You have been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

Papers covered his entire desks about different subjects; games of cricket, statistics for the movie box office for that week, a report on an excursion one of the geography classes had taken. As much as the literary chaos should have overwhelmed Harry, it really didn’t, in fact, it defined him.

Jouranlism was his niche. At least, it had been throughout his entire school career. He was the president of the newspaper, the editor and the lead journalist as well. Mind you, the newspaper team only consisted of four people but still; Harry held his position in the highest honor.

The one problem with this was that no one else did. Even Harry’s best friend, Niall, who reported on music just because Harry had bribed him onto the team with the promise of cookies every time Niall handed in an article to be published.

Harry was in the middle of compiling the master newspaper for that week to send off to the printers for his five o’clock deadline when his attention was pulled away violently by a pair of shoes clicking down the hall.

Interruptions were one of the things that made Harry’s skin crawl, especially when he was right in the swing of important work. There was so little time for peace and quiet during the school day so the fact that he was bombarded with sound now tugging at his sanity.

He slammed his hands down on the desk, sending papers flying before stalking toward the door, stuck his head out into the hall, “I’m kind of working on a deadline here, do you think you could please take your cacophony somehere else?”

A bloke was halfway down the hall when he turned quickly on his heel, giving Harry an incredulous look.

Harry was confrontational, he didn’t mind facing people when his words were his weapon. He tended to win and it was his advantage because most of his peers never even bothered to answer him at all.

“Whoa, uh, sorry.” The bloke explained defensively, pointing at his shoes, “They’re new. I haven’t quite broken them in yet.”

Harry quickly realized that the bloke was entirely in football gear. Sometimes his fury stripped away his deductive skills but once he concentrated, he realized exactly who he was dealing with.

“You’re Louis Tomlinson.” Harry stated plainly, feeling much more in control once he laid out information that hadn’t been disclosed to him yet.

The bloke’s facial expression faltered slightly, surprised by Harry’s bluntness. “I-I am. How do you know that?”

“I edit the yearbook for names and such.” Harry explained, moving out so that he was leaning on the doorframe. “You’re the captain, have been since your first year.”

The school was large, separated into very specific departments that didn’t tend to overlap very often so even though they might have been going to the same school for four years, Harry and Louis’s paths hadn’t yet crossed.

“So, why are you here?” Harry inquired, his words short.

“Football practice.” Louis responded, “Look, I feel like a complete tosser, especially because you know who I am… but what’s your name?”

“Most people just call me ‘the newspaper twat’.” Harry supplied dryly. “But if you want, you can call me Harry.”

“Well, sorry for bothering you Harry.” Louis answered, genuine guilt in his voice that surprised. “Good luck with all your newspaper stuff.”

Harry watched as Louis turned away from him, continuing down toward the gymnasium before disappearing within its grasp. He had always heard that Louis was a total prick but was open to attributing that notion to petty gossip.

Harry let out an amused little huff of air before returning to his desk to finish off his work, walking back to his desk and plopping down on his wheelie chair. He counted through the amount of articles that have been submitted that week and sighed in defeat. There still wasn’t enough to fill the entire issue, which really wasn’t a new trend.

Because of this, he was forced to fill the issue with his own articles and oversized pictures which always made him feel a bit cheap. Newspaper writing was meant to be collaborative, not only one person’s job.

Once he was done filling in the blank, he sent the mockup off to the printers via email.

+++++++++

The next day, Harry was at his locker when Niall came careening down the hallway with the freshly printed batch of newspapers. Harry grinned in amusement as Niall dipped and winded through the crowd, determined to get to Harry.

Getting through the hall was always an obstacle course for Niall, especially when his vision was obstructed. On top of that, he wasn’t the tallest of blokes so that disadvatage caused even more of an issue.

Harry saw the accident before it even happened. Niall was headed toward a group of footie players and Harry winced before hearing the collision happen. Newspapers flew through the air and while it was a beautiful display, it didn’t seem like the players agreed.

A fury of curse words were aimed toward Niall as Harry swept over to his friend. When he saw who the attacker was, his heart dropped in disappointment: Louis.

“Watch where you’re going, you fucking idiot!” Louis cried out, his brow furrowed with intensity.

Everyone in the hallway stilled. They feasted on the confrontation like it was their sole life source. It disgusted Harry but also intrigued him at the same time. His analytical eye wished him to keep observing this odd condition but when he saw the shattered look in Niall’s eyes, he continued toward his friend although the frozen crowd made it quite the challenge.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you!” Niall expressed, hoping to gain some sort of understanding from the jock.

Louis seemed unconvinced, “Well, maybe if you didn’t have a stack of those shitty newspapers in your hands then you wouldn’t be so fucking blind!” 

Harry’s breath hitched. He knew that people didn’t read his newspaper much but never had he heard someone so blatantly pick it apart. For someone who wasn’t easily discouraged, Louis’s words burned in Harry’s mind, sparking an instanous loathing for the jock in Harry’s core.

The captain kept stringing together expletives until a guy who Harry recognized as Liam Payne carted him back into the group, tossing Niall a sympathetic look before escorting Louis in the opposite direction.

Niall was left in the middle of the hallway, looking as if he might cry when Harry reached him. He was surrounded by the newspapers, The journalist crouched down to him and offered out a hand, “You okay, Nialler?”

“I-I’m fine.” Niall replied as Harry helped him up to his feet. “Just a bit shaken up. But those are the only copies that they’re allowing us this week…”

“Well, I guess it was a more efficient way to distribute than we usually use.” Harry noted, trying to make light of the situation in some form. It didn’t seem to working on Niall who only looked even more upset by the comment. “Don’t worry about it, Niall, there’s always next week’s issue.”

The blond nodded, although he still felt like a complete failure.

Wanting desperately to get distract his friend from the accident, Harry took Niall by the arm and lead him toward the journalism room. “So, how was band practice last night?”

“Zayn and me fucking around with instruments is not a band.” Niall corrected solemnly as Harry dragged him into the room.

Harry ignored Niall’s negativity. He let go of his friend before sitting at his desk, “Have you guys settled on a name yet?”

“He didn’t like the ‘Incredible Illiterates’ unfortunately.” Niall answered, propping himself up on the counter next to the editor’s desk. He even managed to crack a smile at the comment.

“Too bad.” Harry chuckled, opening up his computer and slipping on his glasses. “Maybe try… ‘Overzealous Octapi’ next time.”

“Wow, you really are never going to get over the alliteration factor, are you?” Niall accused, laughing at Harry’s expense.

Harry rolled his eyes, “You’re not allowed to use literary terms against me. I’m the only reason you know what alliteration is.”

Niall stuck out his tongue at Harry but the journalist completely ignored it, already starting in on working on some new articles. After a few moments of silence, Niall got squirmy and hopped to his feet.

He made his usual rounds of the journalism room before stopping in front of what looked like a mailbox. He looked inside and found a piece of paper that was crumpled up.

“What is this?” Niall wondered, pulling a sheet of paper out of the usually depressingly empty submission box before handing it off to Harry with confusion in his eyes.

Harry took the anonymous submission in his hands and was surprised by its contents: a poem.


	2. Chapter 2

Xanthium

By Anonymous

An opal torch is lit at dawn,

All the shadows have been

Scared into hiding.

The ground growls, biding the sun

To nurse its inhabitants.

Swift steps cover eons

As dawn turns to midday.

Sweet cacophony leaks through

The confined meadow,

Feathers are ruffled,

Fur shaken,

As all prepare for impending dusk.

Impotent collection of nutrients

Are made in the last instant,

Before twilight returns.

The burning has dissipated,

Obscurity imminent once again.

 

The poem had been dropped in the submission two issues ago (Harry kept track of weeks by when issues were released). Harry couldn’t get it out of his head. Things had been submitted in the past but those has always been boring articles or the odd love letter that he never dared to publish.

As he walked through the halls, the words plagued his mind. He desperately wanted to know who was behind the poetry but as he scoured his peers, he couldn’t pinpoint anyone as the closeted poet.

He would have to investigate further, which made him utterly itch with excitement. The journalist in him wanted answers, he would just have to go looking for them. Unfortunately he had no idea where to start.

After another hallway investigation, Harry finally got frustrated enough to abandon the endeavor. He stole away to the journalism room, knowing that he would have some privacy there to clear his mind.

But as he walked into the room, he walked right into Niall who was strumming away on his guitar.

“For the last time, Niall, this isn’t the music room!” Harry cried out in protest.

Niall have him an apathetic look before turning back to his playing.

“NIALLER!” Harry yelled out again, standing his ground.

The blond looked up at him with sullen eyes, “Am I weird?”

Harry instantly sobered, seeing that his friend was upset. “What happened?”

Niall shrugged, although his hands were trembling in betrayal.

Harry neared his friend, “Niall, come on, mate. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Louis just gave me a dirty look in the hall.” Niall explained, “It just makes me feel weird. Am I weird?”

Harry sat down next to Niall and mulled the question over, “Imagine how boring you would be if you weren’t weird. You should be proud of it. It makes you an individual.”

Niall lazily let his fingers fall across the strings, letting a dissonant sound play through the room.

After the sound had dissipated, he looked at Harry appreciatively, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just don’t know what his problem is. Louis, I mean.”

Harry pushed away from the desk and breezed toward his wheelie chair: “It’s the classic tale of mediocrity. Louis’s so average that he classified anything unlike himself as a threat, especially something unique. He snuffs it out by calling it names and negating it in public.”

“So, in normal human language: Louis’s a dick?” Niall questioned, an amused grin on his lips.

“As eloquent as ever, Nialler.” Harry teased. “But, yes.”

“Thanks, Haz. I’ll get out of your hair then.” The blond shared, hopping down from the desk he had been perched on. “I’ve got to get to band practice.”

“You done with this issue’s article?” Harry asked anxiously as his friend moved toward the door. “The deadline is tomorrow.”

“Mhmmmm.” Niall muttered before disappearing from the doorframe.

“That’s not even an answer!” Harry protested but as usual, no one answered. But at least now he had the privacy to get down to work.

+++++++++

Harry walked through the hallway, his hands hurts from typing all afternoon and his head ached from staring at the computer with all the formatting he had done for the newspaper.

He truly felt as if he were going through the motions and since he had finished early, he still a bit of time to wander before Niall was done with band practice. This meant he had time to kill but his creative brain was utterly exhausted so he decided investigating probably wouldn’t be the best idea.

Instead he just let himself meander through the empty hallways until he emerged out the back of his school to the recreation fields. He saw that the football team was practicing and considering there was nothing better to do, he ambled over and took a seat in the stands.

He watched as the players winded and weaved around each other in patterns that were meaningless to him. It all seemed like such a waste of time, not that he didn’t like physical activity, he just much preferred to be running or swimming, something solitary so he had time to think.

Louis dribbled the ball up the field and set up a shot, ready to kick it into the net before Liam cut him off. Louis didn’t take it well and ended up yelling at Liam with words that Harry couldn’t quite make out.

“Heathens, aren’t they?”

Harry’s head snapped to the voice that had just talked to him. It was a guy about his age with dark brown hair and a cheeky smile. He wore a button up dress shirt and nice jeans with a little beanie atop his head. Harry somehow found himself intrigued by the bloke’s self – aware dishhelved attire.

“I suppose so.” Harry shrugged, unused to people approaching him in such a friendly manner. “To each, their own.”

The stranger sat down next to him, which Harry thought was a bit forward but bold nonetheless. The guy stuck his hand out to him and introduced, “I’m Jamieson Noble.”

“Harry Styles.” Harry countered politely. “Harold, if you are so inclined.”

“I think I’ll stick with Harry, it seems to suit you better.” Jamieson answered, the handshake lingering.

Harry, who couldn’t help but notice details, realized just how soft Jamieson’s hands were before pulling his own away. He felt like a bit of a sod but was able to contain his composure.

“You’re new here.” Harry stated, simply feeling like he needed to fill the air with words.

“Yah, got here about three weeks ago. Was it that obvious?” Jamieson wondered jokingly. 

“No, no.” Harry clarified, “I edit the yearbook so I kind of know the entire student body. You weren’t in last year’s so I sort of deducted.”

“Oh, uh, cool.” Jamieson replied, grinning at Harry.

Harry could tell that he had once again weirded somebody out with his odd habits. Silence fell over him, as if even if he wanted to say another word, somebody wouldn’t let him.

Louis turned toward the bleachers, catching Harry’s eye before waving discretely at the journalist. Harry, already shocked enough by what was going on with Jamieson, didn’t even know how to process Louis’s friendly greeting.

“So, are you a fan?” Jamieson inquired, looking between Harry and where he was looking at the field, where he saw Louis. “Or is your boyfriend on the team and it’s an obligation thing?”

Harry’s breath hitched; astonished that Jamieson would just assume he was gay and still surprised by Louis’s gesture. He tore his eyes away from the field and responded, “Neither. Just bored, I guess.”

Jamieson chuckled at the panic that had risen in Harry’s eyes, “Well, if you’re bored this often, we should go get coffee sometime.”

“Oh, I, well, I don’t know…” Harry stammered, his voice shaking with surprise. He had never been asked out by anyone before, especially not by another bloke.

“No pressure, mate.” Jamieson shrugged causally. “Just mull it over, I’ll give you my number just in case. That way if you don’t want to, you can just get rid of it. No harm done.”

“O-okay…” Harry murmured, unsure of what to do as Jamieson pulled out a pen.

“I noticed you have ink on your hands already, thinking you won’t mind some more?” Jamieson questioned and Harry numbly held out his forearm toward the bloke.

Jamieson scribbled his number lightly on Harry’s arm and Harry watched on in complete wonder.

“I have a poetry slam to get to or I’d stick around to pester you.” Jamieson explained as he stood up to his feet. “It was lovely meeting you, Harry.”

“Likewise.” Harry replied with sincerity, finally relaxing somewhat into the situation.

“See you around.” Jamieson greeted before bounding down the stairs and away from Harry.

As soon as he was out of sight, Harry’s journalism brain went into working mode. Poetry slam. It seemed like Jamieson was a potential suspect for writer of the submitted poem.

Harry tore his phone from his pocket and texted Niall:

Meet me at the bleachers when you’re done.

-H

+++++++++

Niall arrived about half an hour later and Harry was sifting through every social media site he could to stalk the hell out of Jamieson Noble. He had gathered a lot of information about the mysterious new bloke; mainly that he had been the president of the poetry club at his former school.

Harry was so distracted that he didn’t even notice that the practice had already finished as he sat in the bleachers.

Niall walked up to the field, crossing by the change room just at Liam emerged from them. Recognition passed between the two of them but Niall quickly removed eye contact from the player and Louis’s best friend, charging on to meet his own friend.

“Niall.” Liam objected, managing to stop Niall in his tracks.

The blond turned slowly toward Liam, willing to give Liam the benefit of the doubt. Just because his friend was a dick, it didn’t necessarily mean he was a dick. But just as Niall turned to face Liam, he felt his nerves kick in. “W-what?”

“I just wanted to tell you that you should ignore Louis.” Liam shared. “It’s not fair, what he says to you.”

Anger rose in Niall, making him feel much more bold than before, “Then why aren’t you standing up for me in front of him, Liam? Why are you so selective about when you’re nice to me? It’s kind of old, you know.”

“I’m sorry.” Liam supplied but Niall didn’t want to hear and he instead continued on to meet up with Harry.

Niall skipped the steps up to his friend who looked to be hard at work, “Change of scenery for inspiration?”

“Something like that.” Harry replied, finally looking away from his phone. “How was practice?”

Niall shrugged, “The usual. Zayn liked the ‘octopi’ name surprisingly. But it doesn’t matter because we’re not much of a band with only two members.”

“Can’t you make that a thing?” Harry suggested, seeing that Niall was once again discouraged.

“Not if we can make music with only an electric guitar and a singer.” Niall explained. “But it’s fun, so I guess that’s all that matters…”

Niall quickly focused on a collection of numbers on Harry’s arm that hadn’t been there when he had seen him last. He grabbed Harry’s arm to take a closer look, “No fucking way. You got somebody’s number?”

Harry tore his hand away from the blond before looking away from him, “Maybe.”

“Maybe? MAYBE?” Niall cried out incredulously. “THAT’S ALL YOUR GOING TO TELL ME?”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” Harry muttered, hoping that Niall would just drop the subject.

“Um, yes, yes it is.” Niall argued fervently. “We don’t get numbers, Haz, you know that this is unusual. Tell me about it so I can live vicariously.”

“Don’t laugh, okay?” Harry requested.

Niall chuckled, “I won’t. I promise.”

“YOU JUST LAUGHED!” Harry protested, furrowing his brow.

“Tell me, Styles.” Niall stated.

“Fine.” Harry grumbled. “This person just came up to me and started talking. They told me their name and I figured out they were new and then they gave me their number. But the interesting part is that they moved here three weeks ago and they’re into poetry, they could be the poet!”

Niall raised an eyebrow. “And what is their name?”

“Jamie.” Harry answered, figuring that the name was gender neutral enough to pass without question.

“And let me guess, for the sake of the ‘investigation’, you’re going to call Jamie, aren’t you?” Niall accused, knowing Harry better than almost himself.

Harry’s eyes widened, “You’re brilliant, Niall! Really, you ought to be the journalist between us!”

With Niall’s help, Harry finally knew the next step in solving the mystery: publishing the poem and calling Jamieson.


	3. Chapter 3

The new issue of the newspaper was out but Harry had decided to do something bold. Instead of printing a normal front page full of articles, the only thing that graced the front page was the poem.

Needless to say, it caught people’s eyes.

Liam snatched one off the floor just as he walked up to Louis’s locker, meeting his friend there. “Hey, look at this.”

Louis turned toward Liam and raised an eyebrow in interest. “What are you going to titillate me with morning, Mr. Payne?”

“As always, Lou, sarcasm hurts.” Liam quipped back before shoving the piece of paper in his friend’s face so he couldn’t evade it, even if he tried.

Louis’s eyes refocused on what looked to be a poem. He pulled it from Liam’s grasp and re-centered it so he could peruse it on his own terms. He drank in the words, one by one, before looking up at Liam again.

“What do you think?” Liam wondered earnestly. “Pretty cool, huh?”

Louis faltered for a moment, before shoving the newspaper back in his friend’s hands. “I don’t get it. But… whatever floats your boat, I guess.”

“Of course you use a cliché in response to a poem.” Liam grumbled and Louis just smirked in response.

Liam knew that Louis was an intelligent guy and he employed language with thought, just not nessecarily in the most positive way. It as probably due to his uptight parents and some need to somehow rebel, but Liam sometimes wished that Louis hadn’t grown so jaded over the years of their friendship.

“Well, I think it’s cool.” Liam continued before folding it up and pocketing it.

Louis shrugged the whole situation off, “We should get to class, I guess. That kid’s coming in to make a presentation about the newspaper or something.”

“Who?” Liam wondered, “Harry?”

“I’m not good with names.” Louis responded flippantly, even though he had known exactly who was coming to class to speak to them.

Liam rolled his eyes, “Clearly.”

As Liam got his books together, Louis discretely snatched a discarded copy of the newspaper’s first page and stashed in his backpack. Liam snapped back up and they headed off toward their class, Louis’s cheeks burning slightly with how close he had been to being caught by Liam.

+++++++++

Harry was late.

Harry didn’t do late.

Niall had kept him all morning, trying out new song lyrics on Harry as a demo. This was a common occurrence and while Niall’s lyrics always turned out well, his self confidence never seemed to be enough to go without running them through Harry first.

Some of the lyrics that Harry had approved were:

Like a mirror/ You reflect back who I want to be / By myself, I can’t just be me/

Take my hand and all shall see / I find myself in looking at you

Harry had always been intimidated by creative writing; whenever he read it, it instantly captured him but when he tried to put pen to paper with nothing but a story in his head, it just wouldn’t happen.

He always found it astonishing when people could write creatively. His writing was perpetually analytical, his voice potent as long as he was writing non-fiction. It frustrated him to no end but he had long realized that he would never be an author, a poet or a lyricist. That dream had died.

When he read creative writing, he always found it incredibly intriguing, no matter what it was. It wasn’t something he was aspiring for any longer but his interest in it had never waned.

That’s why the poem had captured him so violently.

No matter how much he tried to focus on something else, it always came right back to the forefront. His mind would always wonder back to the words, so much that he knew the words by memory.

If he didn’t find out who the person was soon, he knew he’d surely go crazy.

Rushing down the hall to the English class he was meant to be making a presentation in about five minutes, he rounded a corner swiftly. Papers and copies of the newest issue were stacked high in his hands, something he should have figured was a bad idea considering what had happened to Niall, but he didn’t have time for rational thought.

Of course, he ran into someone.

Papers flew through the air and Harry found himself look up at the ceiling. He felt like a complete idiot but it was a little too late to save him any grace.

“I am so sorry.” A voice blurted out and in his periphery, Harry saw a hand being extended to him.

He reached up for it and grasped onto it, too delirious from the fall to argue it. Everything was spinning but Harry’s eyes refocused quickly and saw Jamieson looking at him with concern in his eyes.

“Do you need me to help you to the nurse?” Jamieson asked, his brow furrowed with guilt.

“I’m fine.” Harry murmured, still a bit dazed but coherent enough. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“Are you sure?” Jamieson asked, reaching toward Harry’s cheek, studying the journalist closely. “You could have a concussion…”

“Jamieson.” Harry stated bluntly causing the bloke to pull away in surprise. “I’m fine.”

Jamieson’s face transitioned from worried to a bit embrarassed. But that didn’t last long and he quickly dissolved into a grin. At least he was persistent with his enthusiasm.

“I guess this isn’t the way to get you to call me back, huh?” He joked.

Harry liked the fact that he wasn’t afraid to make fun of himself, it was quite endearing.

“I know something that can help you win points again.” Harry promoted tactfully. “Help me pick all these papers up, I’m almost late for my presentation.”

“No way, it’s you who’s presenting in front of the English class?” Jamieson asked, before leaning down to start collecting the papers. “I’m in Mr. Montgomery’s class. Now that’s just fate.”

“Something like that.” Harry chuckled, trying to hide his smile.

He didn’t want Jamieson to realize that he was slowly winning him over. He didn’t want to seem easy. He didn’t want to seem too easy. But as Jamieson helped him collect the papers up, Harry actually considered what it would be like to go on a date with a guy.

Harry had never really prescribed to any particular orientation, as he had never given himself the chance to feel attracted to someone. It was a vulnerable thing to be with someone, and Harry had never been open to that. His writing was his priority.

But sometimes you have to just live in the moment, and maybe for once, Harry could.

Once the papers were all collected, Jamieson and Harry stood to their feet. A comfortable silence had fallen between then, something Harry appreciated in a companion.

Companion?!?, Harry chastised himself for his diction; There I go using the wrong words again.

Jamieson smiled as he saw a fussy look fall over Harry’s face.

“Walk to class with me?” Jamieson prompted, holding half of Harry’s papers to his chest within crossed arms.

Harry shrugged at the beanie-clad bloke, “Sure, why not be late together? Safety in numbers, right?”

Jamieson nodded in agreement as they made the rest of the two-minute walk to Miss Montgomery, although it was a bit of a skip for Harry who’s anxiety about being late was driving him forward still. Jamieson found it quite entertaining to watch Harry struggle between relaxing into Jamieson’s pace and racing on worriedly.

Just as they were about to enter the classroom, Jamieson noticed the front page of the paper, “Poetry on the front page of a newspaper? Now that’s bloody radical of you, Styles.”

“You think it’s too much?” Harry wondered, his voice flattering at Jamieson’s comment as they lingered outside of the classroom door.

“No!” Jamieson clarified anxiously. “I think it’s completely daring of you. You have to be bold if you’re going to change things. And from what I’ve seen of the world so far, we need more people like you.”

Harry’s breath hitched at the compliment, even though he wasn’t quite sure he deserved it. Changing things was going to take a little more than some rebellious publishing.

“Th-thanks.” Harry shared, a shy smile on his lips.

“You’re more than welcome.” Jamieson responded, his eyes practically sparkling “Now, I don’t want to keep you back any longer. Get in there and do your thing!”

Before Harry could object, Jamieson had playfully sent him whirling into the classroom with a little push.

Harry was met with at least thirty of his peers, staring at him with surprised stares. A blush crept up on Harry’s cheeks as Jamieson breezed in behind him, setting down the rest of Harry’s papers on the table behind him.

“Well, hello, Mr. Styles.” Miss Montgomery greeted with an edge to her voice. “So nice of you to show up.”

Harry tensed, feeling the teacher’s negative energy penetrating toward him, “Um, yes, sorry about that. Problem at the printers…”

“Just relax, you’ll do great.” Jamieson whispered into Harry’s ear reassuringly before making his way to his desk, where he gave Harry a wink of support as well.

The exchange had been intended to be discrete but they had at least one spectactator who now was narrowing his eyes at Jaimeson suspiciously.

Louis.

With Jamieson’s support, whether his peers gave a flying fuck or not about what he had to say, Harry began his presentation.

+++++++++

Harry had never felt so good about presenting his passion and his ideas in front of a group before. He had hit all the points he had intended and now it was time to close it up.

“All right, so does anybody have any questions?” Harry questioned, smiling out at the class.

An awkward silence fell over the group of teens as Harry stared out expectantly at them.

Jamieson looked around for a moment and rolled his eyes at his peers. He shot his hand up in the air and Harry nodded for him to ask the question, “I just wanted to let you know how inspiring it is that you truly love this endeavor. Not many people can be so… unabashedly passionate about things and be open enough to share it.”

“Not really a question.” Harry murmured, although a smirk was playing on his lips. “But thank you Jamieson.”

“I just wanted to state a fact.” Jamieson explained, beaming at Harry with all his might.

Louis shot Jamieson a disgusted look and Liam noticed, whispering, “Don’t man. Whatever you want to say, keep it to yourself.”

But Louis had never been the one to censor himself so he quickly shot his hand up, “I saw that you published a poem on the front page of the newspaper today. I think it’s great that you provide an opportunity for people to get content out there, even if it’s anonymous. I think this really could be the start of something new for our school.”

“Well, that’s not really what I expected…” Liam muttered in surprise at his friend’s words.

“Oh…. Um, wow, I never thought about it like that before.” Harry answered, still processing Louis’s words in his mind because of his shock. “I think that I could definitely make it a part of each issue if people are willing to participate. That’s the point of the newspaper, to give people an outlet to say exactly what they need to say, however they need to say it.”

“That sounds like a great idea.” Louis quipped in agreement, sending the classroom into a buzz of murmurs and chatting. “People need somewhere to express themselves.”

“I will definitely look into that.” Harry assured Louis. “Now does anyone have any more questions about the newspaper or journalism is general?”

It seemed like Louis’s interest had sparked something in the classroom; suddenly a whole mess of hands flew into the air. As much as Harry couldn’t understand Louis at all, he was still appreciative of the bloke’s support.

And while Louis couldn’t understand it himself, something about Harry drew him in. And that was terrifying…


	4. Chapter 4

“The Broken knee company… Seven hearts and four toes… Lemon Meringue Lie..” Niall rambled aloud, smacking the end of his pen against his notepad in frustration.

“The first one sounded kind of suggestive.” Harry evaluated from behind his desk, smirking at his friend. “Unless that’s why you’re going for.”

“Rude.” Niall accused, scowling at the journalist who just chuckled at his friend’s misfortune.

“Look, Niall. You can’t force a band name.” Harry advised in a gentler tone, knowing that the blond was genuinely distressed about the matter. “Because if it’s right, it’ll just come to you. And honestly, if you choose one of the crap ones, you’re stuck with it.”

“It just has to be bad ass.” Niall expressed, hopping down from the counter and venturing toward Harry. “To reflect our bad ass image.”

Harry tried his best to take his friend seriously, unfortunately, a butterfly was more badass than Niall Horan would ever be. It was probably due to Niall’s ridiculous blue eyes.

“Maybe that’s not what you should be going for?” Harry suggested supportively.

“You can doubt me all you want but you can’t doubt Zayn.” Niall objected to Harry’s comment. “The bloke is covered in tattoos and sometimes, he even wears leather.”

“I still think he’s a figment of your imagination and that every time you go to ‘band practice’, you really just go stand in a dark room on your own.” Harry teased, although he was being little bit serious.

He’d never seen Zayn and no matter how much Niall raved and ranted about him, Harry had a hunch that he simply didn’t exist.

Niall planted his hands on his hips, “Well here’s where I get to prove you wrong. Zayn and I are performing at the footie game next Friday. SO THERE!”

Harry was genuinely surprised but also excited for his friend, “That’s so awesome! How’d you swing that gig?”

“Turns out people have actually started reading that little newspaper after all.” “Somebody read my article about music, where I may or may not have done some self-promotion. But that’s not the point, they contacted the principal requesting that my band play. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Insane.” Harry quipped, “Although for future reference, your article isn’t to be used for such selfish gain.”

“Oh, so you’re not allowed to publish thirty articles by Harry Styles per issue anymore then?” Niall challenged fervently.

“Okay, down boy.” Harry expressed, “I was just kidding.”

Niall rolled his eyes before snapping back to the point, “But now you see my problem. I have a band and we have some half decent music, BUT WE DON’T HAVE A NAME!”

Harry mulled it over for a moment and Louis’s idea popped into his head. If people weren’t ready to submit full articles or anything else, maybe he could promote their creativity in a different way.

“Okay, since you’ve been struggling so much with the name, why don’t we hold a contest in the newspaper for a name?” Harry explained, with a smile on his lips.

Niall processed the suggestion before smiling widely at his friend. “I think I might just love that idea.”

“I’m a genius.” Harry deemed before opening a word document to start the mock up for the contest page.

Niall sighed, always appalled by Harry’s ego, “In this case and this case only, I am willing to agree with you.”

+++++++++

School was hard for Louis. He always felt like he was being slowly suffocated. He had suffered from severe ADHD when he was younger but now with the help of medication and some gained maturity, he could usually handle his condition.

Today was not usually.

Liam gave his friend a worried look but Louis just waved him off, not wanting anybody’s sympathetic concern. He could handle it by himself, especially with football practice starting in only half an hour.

Physical distraction was one thing that could always focus Louis. Since he was young, Louis had participated in many different types of sports but the one that had been the most successful had been soccer, which is where he’d met Liam. They’d been best friends ever since.

Louis’s parents treated his condition like a problem that just had a simple solution. He had gone through therapy that had just driven his anxiety through the roof and been prescribed medication that kept him focused. Unfortunately it tended to drain him of creativity, which made him suffer in classes like English and most elective courses.

But if he wasn’t taking his medication, he wasn’t allowed to stay at home. His parents didn’t appreciate his erratic behavior when he was off of it. It was ‘embarrassing’. They were strict and had extremely high expectations of him. It drove him crazy.

Ever since he started on the medication, the bullying and ‘spaz’ nickname had faded away. But now it seemed that Louis had taken up the position of his previous taunters. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to act out toward his peers, sometimes something in him just, snapped. He needed to break through the monotony instilled by the medication and the only way he could capture that was through anger and hostility.

It as all such a trap, a never-ending circle of frustration.

Liam leaned over to his friend, “You didn’t take your meds again, did you?”

“I’m trying this new thing.” Louis hissed, his knees bouncing to help output some of his extra energy. “It’s called not giving a fuck what my parents think.”

Liam grinned, “Something about this version of you reminds me of when we were kids. I don’t mind it at all.”

“You’re not afraid of being friends with a spaz?” Louis joked with a smirk.

“I’d rather that than a jerk.” Liam responded honestly.

Louis didn’t take it personally. He knew he had a shitty personality. He couldn’t blame that all on the medication but he could blame it on the resentment and frustration he had toward his parents.

“Well, maybe I’ll skip the numb-pills more often then.” Louis shared before he realized Miss Montgomery was giving him a dirty look.

“Mr. Tomlinson, care to share your thoughts with the rest of the class?” The teacher demanded. “Since you seemed to be so engaged with Mr. Payne.”

“Sorry.” Louis blurted out.

Miss. Montgomery was surprised by the respectful answer from the usually sassy and dismissive Louis. She looked to Liam for explanation but he simply shrugged innocently.

“Thank you for the apology, Louis.” She expressed. “Now it’s time to put pen to paper. You have ten minutes to write on whatever subjects you please. Now go.”

While Louis usually had no inspiration and struggled with such exercises, an explosion of ideas appeared suddenly in his head.

Maybe, just maybe, he could find his voice again.

+++++++++

“Knock, Knock.”

Harry looked up from the computer and saw Jamieson hovering at the door, leaning against the doorframe casually.

“You know, you could’ve just actually knocked.” Harry teased. “Instead of using onomatopoeia.”

Jamieson shrugged, taking Harry’s sassy response as an invitation into the room. “But isn’t it more fun to integrate literary devices into everyday life?”

Harry beamed at Jamieson who opted to sit at the edge of Harry’s desk, which usually was rather foreign territory to anyone but Harry. “So what are you working on now, Mr. Editor?”

“Niall, my best friend, needs a name for his band.” Harry explained. “I thought I might be a good idea to host a contest in the newspaper for a band name.”

Jamieson’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm, “That’s such a good idea, that way you can get more readers too!”

“Uh, yah.” Harry murmured, always startled by the bloke’s positive nature. “Th-thanks.”

“So, what type of band is Niall in?” Jamieson inquired, picking up an issue of last week’s paper, perusing it casually.

Harry smirked, “If you call two blokes, a guitar player and a singer that I’m not sure even exists a band, well, I guess they’re just like… soft rock?”

“You don’t know anything about music, do you?” Jamieson deducted and Harry smile sheepishly, seeing as he’d been caught.

“It’s not that I don’t like it. I guess I just never really got into it.” Harry explained. “Although Niall brings me lyrics sometimes, so I can appreciate that aspect of it at least.”

“He writes?” Jamieson wondered, intrigued as he set down the paper.

“I think it’s a combined effort between he and Zayn.” Harry responded, “But there stuff is cool from what I’ve read. I’m very inspired by creative writing.”

Jaimeson smiled, “Never tried it before?”

“Tried and failed.” Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Epically.”

“I’m sure you’re just too hard on yourself.” Jaimeson evaluated. “I mean, speaking from personal experience, I still think that my stuff is shit but I just let my mind get our what it needs to without judging it.”

Harry jumped on the opportunity, his journalistic curiosity getting the better of him, “You’re a poet, right?”

“Something like that.” Jamieson shrugged, blushing a little at the question.

“I’d love to read something of yours sometime.” Harry blurted out before he realized quite how forward he was being.

Jamieson smiled, seeming a bit nervous, “I guess that’s fair, considering I get to read your writing every week in the newspaper.”

“It’s not the same thing though.” Harry clarified, hoping to make Jaimeson more comfortable. “Creative writing is much more intimate, it’s from your mind instead of just re-formulating facts and dousing it with a little opinion.”

“We go out to coffee and maybe I’ll bring something along.” Jamieson teased boldly and the bravery wasn’t wasted.

“It’s a deal.” Harry responded, surprising Jamieson.

The poet jumped to his feet before saying, “Well, I guess you’ll be calling me then. I don’t want to distract you from your editing anymore. See you later, Harry.”

Before Harry could ask anything more of Jamieson, the poet was gone from the room. Harry was slightly disappointed but exhilarated at the same time.

Jamieson could be the poet he’d been fixated with since the anonymous submission. He opened up the poem and read it again.

There was a knock on the door, and Harry looked back up from his computer, expecting for Jamieson to be making an encore.

Instead, it was Louis.

“Hi.” Harry prompted, wondering what could possibly be the explanation for Louis’s presence.

“Hey.” Louis answered, hesitating a bit although nerves were coursing through him.

“You want to come in?” Harry prompted, seeing that Louis wasn’t exactly comfortable with their location.

“Y-yeah.” Louis sputtered, walking toward Harry. “I-I just wanted to let you know that I wrote today. I haven’t done that in a long time.”

“Oh?” Harry wondered, intrigued by Louis’s honesty.

“I mean, not that I liked it or anything.” Louis blurted out defensively, seeing Harry’s suspicion. “I just haven’t been able to do it and something about your presentation inspired me.”

“That’s great, Louis.” Harry murmured, still a bit confused by what Louis was trying to tell him.

Louis saw the way that Harry was looking at him, utterly perplexed by his words. Louis turned quickly on his heel, his anxiety propelling him out of the room when he saw that there was a sheet of paper in the submission box.

Louis reached into the box and passed it off to Harry, “And it looks like you’ve had another submission.”

Harry took the poem in his hand and read it anxiously:

The notion of aplomb

By Anonymous

Step in and never turn back

Look both ways, and then continue on

Everything but solitude rests here

Be not what you aren’t

Lift your arms, receive me

The ‘I’ is not important, but the ‘who’

Confused? Sit awhile

Converse of the lesser, more simple aspects

Change burns your pupils

Their perception now morphed

Stay still and watch the happenings

The questions will cease as the minutes pass

Trust not me, but your own self

Find strength in the tentative thoughts

Rise up, lift your chin

Accept the ‘ifs’ and the ‘ors’

Step in and never turn back


	5. Chapter 5

Louis was fiddling with his lock when the bloke who had been sitting next to Harry on the bleachers the other day walked by. He had brown hair, tucked away under a green beanie. He looked perfectly disheveled and Louis loathed him for it.

He had never really understood the whole hipster thing. Putting some much effort into looking like you don’t give a shit, it seemed extremely redundant to Louis who practically lived in jeans, simple t-shirts and converse.

Louis perturbed by the guy’s presence, nudged Liam with his hip, “Who the hell is that?”

Liam’s eyes trailed after the bloke and shrugged, “He’s new. Artsy type. I think his name is Jamieson or something.”

“How posh.” Louis muttered, “Doesn’t really seem to fit him. You think he’d go by ‘Jamie’ or something.”

“He uses his full name out of irony.” Liam explained, before he realized he was making an assumption. “I mean, probably.”

Louis chewed on his lip before shaking his head. He didn’t know why that Jaimeson guy got to him but there was something that just didn’t sit right with him. It was probably based off of the competition they’d had the other day for Harry’s attention.

He slammed his locker shut, pushing the thought for his mind. He usually didn’t let himself get caught up in such ridiculous things but ever since he’d gone off of his meds, he’d become sensitive to such interactions. It wasn’t that he wanted to cause hostility or tension, it just seemed like Jamieson was asking for it.

“Ready to go to practice?” Liam prompted before Louis snapped back into attention.

“Yah, sure.” Louis muttered, following Liam away from their lockers.

They were about to turn a corner when a certain blond musician crossed their path, carrying an amp and a guitar. Unfortunately, he dropped both out of sheer shock.

“Shit!” Louis cried out the amp landed on his foot.

Liam lunged for it, pulling it off of his friend’s toe as Niall covered his mouth in absolute horror. Louis sank to the ground as searing pain spread across his toes.

He looked up at Niall, “Are you fucking insane?”

Niall’s blue eyes went wide as he began to tremble. Louis didn’t feel a bit of remorse, he couldn’t when he was in so much pain.

“Answer the bloody question, Horan!” Louis seethed, clutching at his toe as his words ripped through the air.

Liam, seeing that Niall was at a loss for words, swept in front of Louis. “Enough, Lou, it was a mistake. He’s sorry. Just leave it at that.”

“Are you kidding me, Liam?” Louis objected incredulously. “He’s clumsy as fuck and that’s not his fault? He clearly needs to get his shit together… I mean, seriously. If this is broken, I swear-“

“LOUIS.” Liam ordered fervently, putting one hand on Niall’s shoulder. “ENOUGH.”

Louis gaped at his best friend who was protecting the sod who had just injured him. His heart pumped with anger and the shock finally set in so much that the pain had numbed. Louis got up to his feet and grabbed Liam by the collar, swinging him toward the lockers with a slam.

Niall winced in complete surprise and Liam looked at Louis steadily, “Don’t do this, Lou.”

Louis hated being told what to do but somehow he kept it together enough to let Liam go before he hurt him. He spun away from the two idiots and stalked away, wishing he could punch something.

Once he was far enough away, Liam relaxed and Niall muttered, “You didn’t have to do that. You know, stick up for me. I hurt him, it was my fault.”

“It was an accident.” Liam argued. “Louis shouldn’t have reacted like that, he’s just a bit unstable right now.”

“Unstable?” Niall questioned and Liam knew he’d said too much.

“Don’t worry about it.” Liam responded swiftly. “Just pretend it never happened, he’ll cool down soon enough.”

“Do you have to deal with that all the time?” Niall wondered, worried for Liam’s safety.

Liam shrugged, putting his hand on his neck out of habit, “He’s just a bit unpredictable sometimes. It’s really not that big of a deal and I know how to manage it. Anyway, I’ve got to get to practice, so…”

Niall nodded and Liam began to move away before the blond piped up, “You know, if you ever wanted to just, well, chill, I’m here for yah.”

Liam smirked fondly at the invitation, “I just might have to take you up on that. It gets a bit bland hanging out with obnoxious athletes all the time.”

“Aren’t you one of those obnoxious athletes?” Niall teased, hoping he wasn’t crossing a line with his joke.

Thankfully, Liam chuckled in good humor, “Only when I get really into a game. But still, that’s not very often. I pretty much only play because Louis does, I would much rather be playing video games or reading comic books.”

“Sounds like my kind of day.” Niall agreed with an enthusiastic smile.

“Tomorrow, after school?” Liam suggested with a grin.

Niall nodded, “Perfect.”

“See you then!” Liam greeted before running off after Louis.

Niall wasn’t sure exactly what had just happened but for once, he was thankful for his clumsy nature.

++++++++++

“CAN’T ANYONE JUST MAKE A NORMAL FACE?” Harry grumbled as he sifted through a collection of club photos in the journalism room.

He had needed a break from the newspaper so he had opted to alternate to some yearbook editing. Page design was exactly his department but because Harry was a perfectionist, he tended to dip his hand into all aspects of the finished product.

“Like this one?”

Harry looked up from his desk and saw Jamieson pulling a ridiculous face that seemed to be a hybrid between a pig and a banshee.

“Now that is attractive.” Harry teased as Jaimeson continued into the room, two coffees in hand.

“I thought I’d bring the coffee to you.” Jamieson explained, putting down a cup in front of Harry, “Considering you never seem to leave this room anyway.”

Harry couldn’t argue with that. He picked up the coffee and saw that it was his favorite order. He looked up at Jaimeson incredulously.

“Yes, Harry, I stalk you so much that I know your order off by heart.” Jamieson joked dryly.

“You asked Niall, didn’t you?” Harry deducted with a triumphant smirk.

“Caught me.” Jaimeson admitted, “Speaking of, did you get any submissions for that contest?”

“Yup.” “These are the final ones I’m putting up for a vote: “ ‘Fixed Alibi’, ‘Pristine Rebellion’ and ‘Mischief Managed’. What do you think of those?”

“I like them.” Jaimeson nodded approvingly, sipping on his drink. “I also saw the new poem…”

“Fascinating, huh?” Harry interjected, “I just hope the poet keeps submitting. They were both riveting.”

“They’re getting the newspaper quite the buzz.” Jaimeson continued, “I’ve been hearing people talking about it in the halls. They’re obsessed with the anonymity of it all.”

“Really?” Harry wondered, although he wouldn’t know of such gossip considering he spent any amount of time actually around his peers. “Well, I’m sort of doing my own investigation of it all. I’m desperate to know who it is.”

“Any leads?” Jaimeson inquired, his eyebrow rising in surprise.

“A few, not enough to share aloud yet.” Harry explained, blushing a little. “I just have to compile some more evidence and then maybe I’ll share my theories with you.”

Harry still believed that Jaimeson was the prime suspect but he wasn’t about to share that with the bloke quite yet. The truth was that he wanted it to drag on a bit now so that he could ensure more submissions from the poet.

“Anyway, thanks for the coffee.” Harry shared, wanting to move on from the subject.

Jamieson cocked his head a little and Harry couldn’t help but find it adorable. “You’re welcome.”

Harry somehow mustered up some courage and asked, “I was thinking, since we both have a mutual, well, toleration of football, that you might want to come with me to the game next Friday? Niall’s playing and I think it might be nice to actually support him.”

“Yes, I’d love to ironically don the school colors and cheer for something I don’t care about.” Jamieson answered, beaming at Harry with all his might. “Especially with you.”

Harry wasn’t exactly sure if he’d asked Jaimeson out on a date, but if he had, he was sure glad that he’d accepted. He didn’t deal with rejection well but considering how adamant Jaimeson had been about them hanging out, he’d been pretty safe in putting forward the invitation.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work.” Jamieson shared, grabbing his coffee cup up in his hands. “Have fun finding a picture where at least one person isn’t blinking.”

“So supportive.” Harry chuckled as Jamieson walked toward the door. “Thanks again for the coffee.”

“There will be many more coffee visits for you to look forward to.” Jaimeson promised with a grin on his lips. “Don’t you worry your pretty little curly head.”

+++++++++++

Somehow Louis’s foot wasn’t broken.

The amp had only bruised his toe, which had been lucky. He’d been as squirmy as a squirrel as the school trainer made his evaluation of the injury, so much that his coach had asked if he were on something.

So, he was fine but that wasn’t about to erase the grudge he now harbored against Liam and Niall. Liam tried to talk to him many times during practice but he wasn’t having any of it.

“Common, Lou.” Liam urged as he dribbled the ball next to his friend. “I’m sorry but it isn’t fair the way you treated, Niall. It was an accident.”

Louis had had enough. He stopped in his tracks and blurted, “When you figure out how to be my friend again, I will talk to you. Until then, leave me alone.”

Louis ran off and left Liam with mouth agape.

++++++++++++

“And I dropped it on his foot…” Niall explained, his eyes downcast as he retold the story to Harry.

“Holy shit!” Harry exclaimed, actually looking up from his computer as Niall told a story for once. “Is he okay?”

“You should be asking if I’m okay.” Niall protested, his brow furrowed. “If Liam hadn’t gotten in the way, I wouldn’t be fucking breathing right now. Louis wants me six feet under, even more than before.”

“Oh, please.” Harry estimated, “Louis is all talk. He’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“There was murder in his eyes.” Niall assured his best friend. “And I know murder.”

Before Harry could question how his friend knew of that, Niall’s eyes fell upon the empty coffee cup to the right of Harry’s keyboard: “Who brought you that?”

Harry instantly blushed as he followed his friend’s gaze, “I did.”

“Bullshit.” Niall noted, jumping down from the desk to walk toward the cup. “You don’t leave this room between 3:45 and 6:00. This is fresh, so are you going to tell me the truth now?”

“God damn my need for routine.” Harry grumbled before admitting, “Jaimeson. Jaimeson bought it for me, okay?”

“That totally hipster guy who’s been stalking you?” Niall questioned, his eyes wide. “HE TOTALLY WANTS IN YOUR PANTS.”

“Don’t be so crude, Nialler.” Harry deemed flippantly. “It doesn’t suit your innocent face.”

Niall crossed his arms in defiance, although it just made him look more adorable. “You’re just trying to distract me from the fact that you’re canoodling with the poet!”

“The poet?” Harry wondered, perking up.

Niall rolled his eyes, “You have an obsession with this anonymous poem thing. It’s really a problem. You know, you shouldn’t just date this guy because he might be a potential lead. That seems like a bad motive.”

“I am not dating him!” Harry objected, even though he wasn’t even convinced by his own words.

“Sure you’re not.” Niall expressed sarcastically. “You know I don’t care if you’re into guys, right?”

Harry sighed, finally ready to be honest with his best friend, “The truth of it is, that I don’t even know if I like guys.”

Niall shook his head in disbelief, “Well, Styles, it looks you have yourself in a bit of a fucking pickle.”


	6. Chapter 6

“So this is what the music room looks like…” Liam murmured as he walked in to see Niall and a dark haired guy messing around on a drum set and guitar.

Niall’s breath caught, he was surprised by Liam’s arrival: “Oh, hey, Liam!”

Liam could tell by Niall’s panicked look that he had forgotten the hangout they had planned the day before. He felt a bit like an idiot, he moved back a bit before Niall stood up to his feet.

“Come on in.” Niall invited, with an inviting grin. “We were just doing some writing.”

“Uh…. Hi…” Liam muttered, walking nearer, mostly against his will but Niall’s smile was quite convincing. Liam’s eyes focused on the raven-haired stranger, he put out his hand to the guy, “I’m, uh, Liam, by the way.”

“Zayn.” The guy responded warmly, startling Liam. “Don’t mind if I sort of get a bit distant, when I write I tend to get a bit intense.”

“Are you sure you guys want me to stick around?” Liam wondered, looking around awkwardly.

He felt like he wouldn’t be anything but a distraction but Zayn and Niall just shrugged. Niall answered, “I don’t mind, I mean, if you want to stick around.”

“Me either.” Zayn agreed, “It’ll be nice to have a bit of an audience considering Niall practically hides me in this damn room.”

“I haven’t seen you around school.” Liam admitted, a bit forwardly. “Do you go here?”

“No, actually.” Zayn explained with a small smile, “I was homeschooled but I already have my G.E.D. I’m Niall’s next door neighbor though. That’s how this whole band thing happened.”

“Huh, sweet.” Liam shared, “So you guys really don’t mind if I just chill here?”

“Not at all.” Niall remarked. “If you don’t mind, we shouldn’t be very long. We’re just trying to finish something up.”

Liam sat down on a speaker by the front door, “No, I’ve always had a soft spot for music though. Go forth and create!”

With Liam’s seal of approval, the two band mates went back to work on their latest song.

Liam watched intently as Zayn experimented with improvised riffs and then adding words to them while Niall compiled complimentary chord changes, while sometimes throwing in a few words.

Zayn really did get in the zone when he worked, his brow furrowed and his eyes seemed to grow darker with every passing minute. It amused me

After about fifteen minutes of messing around with different options, Zayn and Niall played through what they’d created that day:

The brush of a toe against the covers, fleeting lovers,

Intertwine as time expands,

Think less, enjoy more,

Breathe in a stranger’s breath until they fly away again,

Because nothing ever lasts with lust.

Catch their eyes from across the room,

Liquid courage trickles down your throat,

Instincts on, hesitation gone,

You reach out for the unfamiliar and simply loom.

Once they were done, Liam stood up to give the two blokes a standing ovation. “I can’t believe that, how the hell do you even come up with it? You’re both amazing.”

“Th-thanks.” Zayn and Niall choked out simultaneously, not used to hearing such praise of their work.

“It’s still a work in progress.” Zayn murmured self-consciously. “We’ve never really shown anything of ours to anyone. But since we have that show coming up, we’re kind of scrambling to get things together.”

“Well, I love it.” Liam shared. “When’s your show?”

“We’re performing at your game next Friday.” Niall answered, a bit nervously.

Liam walked toward the duo, “That’s awesome. You guys still don’t have a band name, do you?”

“Harry narrowed it down to a couple things so far, but we’re waiting for the poll to come through.” Zayn explained, “The ideas so far are pretty bad ass though.”

“I like ‘Mischief Managed’ the best.” Liam expressed with a smile.

“Harry Potter fan, are we?” Niall wondered with a smirk.

“So am I!” Zayn exclaimed excitedly, practically beaming at Liam through his dark eyelashes.

“I think it’s practically a sin to be British and not like Harry Potter.” Liam answered and Zayn nodded vigorously along in agreement.

“So you’re on the footie team, then?” Zayn inquired of Liam.

“I am.” Liam responded, “Mostly because of my best friend, Louis, though. Sports aren’t really my favorite.”

“Really?” Niall asked incredulously. “What is, then?”

Liam began to blush, hoping that they wouldn’t ask. But both Liam and Niall had expectant looks on their faces, so Liam decided to comply with Niall’s question, “Music actually. But it’s more of a guilty pleasure than anything else. I’m only the shower sing type though.”

“Sing for us.” Zayn prompted without hesitation.

Niall shot Zayn a disapproving Louis and if possible, Liam turned an even darker shade of red before stammering, “I really couldn’t. My voice isn’t anything compared to you guys. I can’t, it’s embarrassing.”

“Oh, common!” Zayn continued and Niall blurted, “Zayn, he doesn’t want. Don’t pressure him, that’s no fair. Just because we like to perform doesn’t mean everybody does.”

“He plays sports!” Zayn objected, glaring at Niall. “Isn’t that a kind of performance?”

“Excuse, Zayn.” Niall shared with Liam, moving in front of the songwriter. “His home schooling has left him with complete unawareness of social interaction. Just ignore him.”

“But…” Zayn began and Niall covered his mouth with his palm.

Liam chuckled, glad that the focus had gone off of his singing for a moment. “Oi, Zayn? You should come hang with us!”

“What?!?” Zayn and Niall blurted out at the same time.

“Is that a problem?” Liam wondered, cocking his head to the side, much like a puppy.

“N-no, it’s cool.” Niall finally responded because Zayn wasn’t sure how to read the situation and didn’t feel like making a fool of himself again in front of Liam.

There was a beat of silence before Liam asked, “Are you guys all done here, then?”

Zayn stood to his feet, “I think so. What do you think Niall?”

Niall suddenly felt like a third wheel. “Yah, sure, whatever.”

“Great! Time to shoot people!” Liam cried out, pumping his hand in the air.

+++++++++++++++

Louis chewed on the end of his pencil. Erasers didn’t taste very good but Louis was too zonked out to be able to care. He’d stayed up all night thinking about what had happened with Niall the day before.

Looking back on it all, his reaction had been ridiculous, especially with how he had treated Liam. Liam was nothing but supportive of him all the time, especially with the struggle with his A.D.D.

He was currently camped out in the library, stuck between having nothing to after school because Liam had made plans and not wanting to go home to see his parents. The library had seemed like the best escape but the silence was driving him a bit batty.

He had hid himself tactfully in the reference section where he assumed people didn’t actually go. So far he had been correct but suddenly he heard someone rounding the bookshelf closest to his hiding spot.

Instinctively, he ducked underneath the desk he was sitting at. He watched as a pair of converse began to peruse the section. He tried to hold his breath but his heart began to pump anxiously.

“Where the hell is it?” A voice muttered in frustration.

Louis could recognize the voice but he couldn’t quite place it. Curiosity quickly got the best of him and he edged forward. He’d never been very discrete.

“Louis?” The voice asked and Louis looked up to make eye contact with Harry.

“Uh… hi.” Louis sputtered, his cheeks growing hot. “This- This doesn’t look as bad as it does, I swear.”

“People have made a point of stalking me lately.” Harry stated with a chuckle. “I’m usually the one doing the stalking.”

Louis’s eyes grew wide with confusion.

“For stories.” Harry clarified. “It was a joke. I know – weird. Sometimes the journalist makes jokes.”

Louis still remained silent, though thoughts were flying through his head at a million miles a bit. It seemed that his mouth just couldn’t keep up enough to even make a sound at all.

Harry saw that the conversation was going nowhere, so he extended a hand to Louis, who looked utterly lost amongst the books, “Want help up?”

Louis eyed the hand before grabbing onto it. Harry pulled him up and Louis muttered, “Thanks, mate.”

“You’re welcome.” Harry responded with a warm smile. “So what exactly brings you here? No offense, but you don’t exactly seem like the library type.”

“None taken.” Louis blurted, even though a bit was taken. “I just needed a quiet place to clear my head and well, I guess I had nowhere else to go.”

“No where else to go?” Harry repeated incredulously.

Louis sighed before explaining, “Liam’s not talking to me because of the whole Niall incident, which I’m sure you’re aware of and I can’t stand being at home. That’s why I’m here. Depressing, right?”

“Not really, I’m here too.” Harry replied bluntly.

“Sorry.” Louis answered, feeling like more of a sod than he already did.

Harry cracked a smile. “Again, it was a joke. You need to understand my humor, Tomlinson. It’s dry, really dry.”

Louis was taken aback again. “Oh, okay.”

“Look…” Harry began, hesitating a bit. Truly he found Louis quite fascinating but instead justified his actions simply as trying to be a Good Samaritan. “Do you want to come to the journalism room? It’s quiet still and that way you won’t be alone.”

“S-sure.” Louis responded before he could even truly consider the question properly. It seemed that being in Harry’s presence made it even harder for Louis to concentrate.

++++++++++++++

“So you just… edit and write for hours and hours?” Louis wondered after about two minutes of silence in the journalism room. “Doesn’t that get a bit fucking boring after a while?”

“Says the guy who kicks around a sphere for amusement.” Harry stated, looking up from his computer screen.

Louis was currently perched on the cabinet lining the wall next to the window, sitting with his legs crossed. He once again didn’t laugh at Harry’s joke, which caused Harry to wonder if Louis understood the art of comedy at all.

“You know I was kidding?” Harry offered and Louis just maneuvered himself into a different position.

Harry shook his head, quickly seeing that the interaction was a lost cause. Maybe Louis really wasn’t much of a mystery at all; maybe he truly was just a prick who had no friends.

“I’m sorry if this sounds rude, but don’t you have friends aside from Liam?” Harry inquired cautiously.

Louis shrugged, “None worth spending time out of school with. I think I’d lose my mind if I did.”

“So instead you chose to hid away in the library or better yet, hide away with a bloke you never know in the journalism room?” Harry questioned, raising an eyebrow in speculation.

Harry was grasping at how to understand Louis and yet, once again, Louis surprised him: “I don’t tend to waste time on people who don’t mean anything to me, at least in my free time.”

Which meant that for whatever reason bizarre and unknown reason to harry, he meant something to Louis even though they had only had some many interactions together in the past.

“You confound me, Louis Tomlinson.” Harry shared, unable to gather any other way to respond to Louis’s comment.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Louis responded, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

The warmth emanating between Harry and Louis was palpable as an odd camaraderie sparked between them. They were from two completely different worlds, mentally, morally and socially but it didn’t seem to matter.

For whatever reason they were drawn toward each other, willing to accept things about one another that no one else would, even with how little they truly knew of each other.

On paper, their friendship looked all wrong, but in reality, it suddenly made perfect sense.


	7. Chapter 7

“So how was the threesome last night?” Harry asked, winking suggestively toward Niall as the blond sauntered into the writing room.

“For fuck’s sake, do not call it that.” Niall protested as he popped himself up onto his usual perch, scowling at the journalist.

“Well, at least I have some more proof that this Zayn figment actually exists.” Harry offered in some effort to make his friend feel better about the reportedly awful hangout that had occurred the previous day.

Niall perked up a bit, “Speaking of Zayn, I have some lyrics that he wrote if you want to publish them. We came up with them yesterday and we’d thought it would be a good way to get people talking about the band.”

“The band that still doesn’t have a name.” Harry responded with a smirk, tapping his pen against his notepad. Niall stuck out his tongue, which satisfied Harry enough to continue with, “But that sounds like an awesome idea. Hand em’ over and I’ll put them in the next issue which will be out Monday.”

“Great, thanks, mate.” Niall, shared, making a little paper airplane out of the lyric sheet before sailing it toward Harry.

The journalist was thankfully wearing his glasses so the impact didn’t hurt. He tossed a death stare in Niall’s direction before pulling open the plane up to reveal the lyrics.

He read over them and smiled, “These might be a bit too suggestive for the approval of the principal.”

“Oh..” Niall murmured, blushing a little.

“And that’s exactly why I’m going to publish them.” Harry explained, startling Niall with his words. “You know, I’ve always loved pushing the envelope but that’s kind of hard when all you have to report on is the score of each football game. But this is something different, something risqué. I love it.”

“Really?” Niall questioned incredulously.

“Yup, it’s great, Nialler.” Harry said, placing it to the side where the articles to be arranged and published were stacked. “I just wish that more people were actually submitting things.”

“People have been actually picking up the newspapers for once.” Niall shared, “I think that’s a good start, don’t you?”

“Whenever I have a bit of success, if it doesn’t grow like wildfire, I begin to panic.” Harry expressed, feeling anxiety begin to build in his chest, even though rationally he knew it was ridiculous. “Even worse, I feel the expectation to keep the success up, which won’t really word if we don’t have another anonymous poet submission for the next issue.”

Niall chuckled a bit at his friend, “You think so long term, Styles. You think with the weekly issue that you’d be living week to week.”

“It might be insane, but I’m not really one of those ‘live in the moment’ types.” Harry protested.

“Yah, I know, Harry.” Niall agreed with a smirk. “You’re scared of everything outside of this room. Remember when you wouldn’t go into the water at the beach that one time because you couldn’t see the bottom? You need to learn to stretch your legs a bit.”

Harry was shocked by Niall’s accusation, “I go outside to research all the time.”

“The library and the internet are not outside, no matter how much you argue that they are.” Niall clarified, seeing where Harry was trying to go with his point but wasn’t about to let him. “You’re borderline agoraphobic.”

“I am NOT afraid of the world.” Harry argued, furrowing his brow, “I would just rather watch and report rather than actually…”

“Experience things?” Niall suggested and Harry just about through his computer at his friend if there weren’t a bit of truth in his addition to Harry’s statement.

But before Harry could make any sort of further objection, there was a knock on the door. Harry’s attention snapped to the intruder who was the always enthusiastic looking, beanie wearing, Jaimeson himself.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” Jaimeson muttered, his smile fading a little bit as Niall and Harry looked his way.

“No.” Harry blurted a little too frantically, so much that Niall had to stifle a laugh. “It’s fine. What’s up?”

Jamieson ambled into the room, regaining some of his enthusiasm, “I can’t believe Mr. Editor just asked me ‘what’s up’. But I digress, I just thought I’d come pay you a spontaneous visit, I find life more interesting when it’s surprising.”

“That notion just made Harry want to cry.” Niall teased of his perfectionist friend who would much rather know about the surprise long before it happened.

It was part of his curiosity complex; it was if Harry was wired to need to know everything. Whether it was gossip, test results or even just what you had for breakfast that morning, if Harry had an inclination to know, he wouldn’t be able to contain himself until he found out exactly what he wanted.

This fact made it very hard for Niall to keep any secrets from Harry. He’d long given up on ever having a normal sort of relationship with his friend. Although Harry was borderline intrusive, Niall didn’t really mind anymore, unless it was something important.

“Well, thanks, Jaimeson.” Harry noted. “It’s cool to have company every once in a while.”

Harry just could tell when he didn’t know things and sometimes when he looked at Jaimeson, he could sense there was something more to the bloke’s story. He could just ask but it seemed much too easy to use that tactic.

He just hoped that maybe, just maybe upon inspection the anonymous poet and Jameson’s trail would cross.

+++++++++++++++++++++

“So what did you do yesterday?” Liam wondered as he dribbled the ball toward Louis before passing it to his friend.

Louis still wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk to his friend but he also didn’t want to have to spend another day in the library. It hadn’t been so bad once Harry had brought him to the journalism but the moments before had been pure torture.

“I just went out to the field and did some drills even though we didn’t have practice.” Louis responded gruffly.

“Oh, uh, cool.” Liam muttered, seeing that Louis was still quite upset with him.

The problem with Louis was that he always believed that he was in the right. No matter what the situation was, he always felt like he had the correct answer or perspective. Even if he momentarily considered other people’s views, he found himself perpetually drawn back to his own.

Right now his view was that Liam had abandoned him to hang out with Niall, the person who, earlier that day, had inflicted pain on him. It had faded from betrayal status down to just an ‘ignore and pretend they don’t exist’ level with how Louis saw Liam.

Louis ran off to practice a corner kick, his heart racing with adrenaline when he began to feel truly ill. He hadn’t taken his meds for quite a few days so his body was still trying to catch up with balancing out its functions without them.

Sure, Louis’s A.D.D. was in full force but at least he felt more connected to his mind than he had in months. Words were stringing together in his mind and whether or not they were coherent, he didn’t really care. In that moment especially words were whizzing around in his head, mostly coming up with new expletives and rude names to describe Liam with.

When Liam caught up to him Louis had a small but triumphant smile on his face which made Liam question, “Whoa, what suddenly got on your good side?”

“It’s none of your business.” Louis remarked before trotting off in the completely opposite direction.

But Liam could see exactly what was going on: Louis’s creativity was back.

Unfortunately this didn’t always have the most positive of results which Liam saw clearly as his best friend fell to his knees and began to pull tufts off grass off of the field.

Liam rushed over to Louis, wondering just what the hell his friend was up. He hoped he could put an end to the nonsense before their coach noticed Louis’s bizarre behavior.

“Lou, stand up, mate.” Liam whispered urgently, checking over his shoulder every few seconds out of sheer paranoia.

“Leave me alone.” Louis issued, not even bothering to look up Liam before continuing on with his work.

Liam immediately crouched down next to his friend, “Louis, common. I know you’re happy to see that some of your creativity has returned but… I just don’t think that this the most appropriate time to be trying it all out.”

“If I wasn’t done already, I’d just keep going.” Louis responded, jumping back up to his feet to stare at his work, which he seemed quite satisfied with. “I don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks and I don’t give a shit about this team. That’s what my parents want, not me.”

Before Liam could even question what his friend meant, Louis flitted off to work on another drill. Liam read the words that Louis had left behind:

Hope breathes falsity, Action changes

 

+++++++++++++++++++

“No, no, no!” Harry objected as Jaimeson pushed him on the skateboard.

Why Harry had even agreed to leaving in the journalism room in the first place boggled his own mind, but it was probably due to how hypnotically hazel Jamieson’s eyes were.

Jaimeson had convinced him to take a break from editing to hang out with him. If Harry had known that entailed trying to balance himself on a thin piece of plastic, he would never have agreed.

Harry was hurtling toward a brick wall, screaming out bloody murder when Jaimeson jumped in the way, cushioning Harry’s crash by wrapping his arms around the journalist.

Relief flooded through Harry, resting his head on Jaimeson’s shoulder as he tried desperately to relax. His heart rate began to slow back to a normal rate.

Jaimeson chuckled after he pulled away, his hands still on Harry as he helped him balance on the board: “You weren’t kidding about the uncoordinated thing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone flail as much as you did.”

Harry’s cheeks burned with a blush, “I told you! You’re just lucky I didn’t break the damn thing.”

Jaimeson grinned at Harry devilishly, “Seeing your face would have been worth all the broken skateboards in the world.”

“Can I please get down from here?” Harry asked, still nervous as he wobbled on the skateboard.

It was only about a 15-inch space from the ground but it still terrified Harry. Jaimeson helped Harry down with a smirk on his face.

Harry scowled and noted disdainfully, “I’m glad that I amuse you.”

“Oh, see, this is why I love spending time with you.” Jaimeson countered, noticing the sassiness in Harry’s tone. “I get to see all the sides that make up Harry Styles.”

Harry’s mood quickly turned around. It seemed that nothing he could do would ever put off Jaimeson and that, well, that made him feel like he didn’t have to hide anything from the poet. It was a comforting feeling.

“Well, I can’t wait to see all the sides of Jaimeson as well.” Harry noted, a smile blooming on his lips.

An alarm went off on Jaimeson’s phone and he looked disappointed before looking back up at Harry, “Looks like our five minutes together is over.”

“Sorry.” Harry winced apologetically. “I just have a deadline to get on, I have to announce the band name before the end of the week.”

Jaimeson didn’t seem to take Harry’s strict schedule personally, “I’m just glad that we could see each other, no matter how long it’s for.”

Before Harry could reply, Jaimeson pulled the journalist into a tight hug before pulling away again and skating off. He called over his shoulder, “See you around, Styles.”

Harry watched Jaimeson glide off, wondering how the hell he managed to look so fucking graceful on the tiny, plastic skateboard. But he made it seem like he was born to do it.

Shaking his head and trying not to overanalyze any of the interaction between he and Jaimeson, Harry headed back toward the journalism room.

Waiting for him was another poem:

The Questionner:

By Anonymous

Flesh lay bare and weak,

Unruly and unwilling to speak.

Whip raised in the questioner’s hand,

His next attack carefully planned.

Flesh screamed but remained calm,

The Questioner recited a second psalm.

Crimson flowed from the queried’s wounds,

The echo of pain in the darkness looms.

A blade that simply seeks the truth,

The length of it so leathily smooth.

The Questioner slips, driven by rage,

Flesh breaks and out streams sage.

The questioning end,

A spirit ascends,

And yet, the question remains…


End file.
